


Hope

by autisticalistair



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, M/M, Thorin goes back to the shire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 08:18:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7677022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autisticalistair/pseuds/autisticalistair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo and Thorin go back to Hobbiton together</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hope

The journey back to Hobbiton takes less time that it did to travel from it. Then again, on the way back, they can take their time, walking around Mirkwood and taking a shortcut through Rivendell. Bilbo doesn’t quite believe that this is happening. He turns around to look at Thorin walking behind him, half expecting him to be gone, but he’s there, as real as anything, and smiling at Bilbo with that stupid softness in his eyes.

It’s peaceful. It’s serene. They stop to make camp every night without worrying about orcs chasing them down or being attacked by trolls. In the tent, they curl up close and whisper to each other until they drift off, Thorin’s hand over Bilbo’s and their legs brushing under the thick blankets. Bilbo wakes up every morning and sees Thorin still asleep, so peaceful it’s impossible to wake him.  The scar on his forehead is healing properly at long last and Bilbo touches it when they’re sat around a campfire in silence.

It isn’t until they get to the borders of the Shire that Bilbo realises that this is real. Thorin came home with him, and home is where he’s going to stay. They stop when they see the gentle hills of Hobbiton and Bilbo had to take a few minutes just to learn how to breathe again.

“Are you alright?” Thorin asks. Bilbo nods and shifts his grip on his backpack. He’s still wearing that ceremonial cape Thorin was given in Dale, fastened at his neck with a dwarven clasp. He feels Thorin’s hand on his shoulder and the anxiety bleeds from him as he exhales.

“I’m fine. Let’s just get this over with,” he says.

As it turns out, his possessions are being hauled out and sold at auction as if he was dead, and the argument that ensued with Lobelia Sackville-Baggins is no doubt going to be nothing short of legendary in the weeks to come, but Bilbo doesn’t care. Respectable or not, he’s not going to let the likes of her or anyone who decided to cart off his things and family heirlooms get to him. He grits his  teeth and hands over the contract as proof of who he is, and Thorin confirms his own identity when asked. Bilbo hears the shocked exclamations outside of his house when he shuts and locks the front door, but he’s too distracted by trying to discard everything he’s carrying to care.

Most of his things are returned by nightfall. Thorin spends a lot of the day carrying heavy furniture in, setting it down where Bilbo tells him while Bilbo tidies up the mess inside. A straightened picture here, a polished knife there. It’s calming, after the frankly horrendous morning he’s had. No wonder he left the Shire on this whirlwind adventure. He can barely stand being near people this pompous and nosy. It must have been a subconscious thing, leaving all of this behind to go chasing after pretty stones and dragons.

It isn’t until night is truly upon them and Bilbo has a fire going that he has a chance to properly sit down and relax. Thorin is there, coming up behind his armchair and putting his hands on Bilbo’s shoulders. Bilbo closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths, letting the warmth of the fire and Thorin’s hands on his shoulders calm him.

“Is there anything I can do?” Thorin askes in that ridiculous soft voice, so full of concern. He has no right to be concerned. If Bilbo wasn’t so bloody exhausted, he would be insisting that Thorin get some sleep before either of them thought about doing anything else.

“No,” Bilbo says. He covers one of Thorin’s hands with his own. “No, you don’t need to do anything.” He stands up and walks around the chair, holding onto Thorin’s hand. It feels like a dream, both of them here, tired and warm and ready for bed. Thorin takes Bilbo’s face in his own and leans down to kiss him. It’s quick and gentle, and exactly what Bilbo needs right now. He digs his fingers into Thorin’s arms and stands on his toes, smiling when Thorin laughs and wrapping his arms around his neck.

“I never thought I would call this place home,” Thorin says. Bilbo smiles.

“Are there any changes you want to make while we’re here?” he asks, twisting a lock of Thorin’s hair around his finger. Thorin’s hands slide down his back, impossibly warm.

“Get rid of that mark on the door. I don’t want any other dwarves trying to take you on more adventures,” Thorin says, but it’s only half serious. He smiles and rests his forehead against Bilbo’s. “I won’t have you going on adventures without me.”

“Like I want any more adventures after what we went though. No, I’m happy to stay here,” Bilbo says. Thorin lets go of him then, only to push Bilbo backwards, walking him to their bedroom. _Their_ bedroom. Now that was a thought Bilbo had been playing with the whole way home. When Thorin sits on the bed and pulls Bilbo into his lap, he realises then just how lonely he had been before. Why had he ever thought of spending the rest of his life alone? He curls against Thorin and rests his head in the curve of his neck, closing his eyes and sighing.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he says softly. “Though you snore like a troll sometimes.”

“You fidget when you sleep,” Thorin says, but Bilbo hears the laughter in his voice. Thorin falls back and takes Bilbo with him, both of them sprawling out on the covers, Bilbo leaning over him. He presses a kiss to Thorin’s jaw, and then his cheek, and then his mouth, cupping his face as he shifts so his legs don’t complain. He realised on the road that he would never get enough of this kind of simple affection. He’ll put up with Thorin’s beard scraping against his face and the snoring and the nightmares for the rest of his damned life if it means that he wakes up with Thorin every day. The idea of letting him go ever again is just too painful. He’s sure that over time, it will ease, especially whenever Thorin has to go back to Erebor for family, but right now he refuses to let Thorin go.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep. He’s sure that it was after finally pulling away from each other and sliding into bed together, Bilbo’s head tucked underneath Thorin’s chin and his hand up under his shirt, feeling the sheer heat of him. When he wakes, it’s almost dawn. For a while, he just lies there, listening to Thorin’s heartbeat, watching his chest rise and fall. It doesn’t feel real, really. He’s hungry and tired and almost on the edge of going back to sleep, but Bilbo pushes himself up carefully so he doesn’t wake Thorin and looks at him. He smiles to himself and leans down to kiss the tip of Thorin’s nose. He doesn’t stir, just breathes and sleeps, and Bilbo finds himself immensely relieved to see Thorin looking so peaceful for once.

He gets out of bed and quietly walks towards the kitchen. There’s no food, of course, but there’s loose leaf tea, and if Bilbo knows anything, it’s how to make a fantastic cup of tea. He sets about it, finding his kettle on the kitchen table and filling it with water before setting it above the fire, rekindling it quickly. He hears the tell-tale mumbling that tells him that Thorin is awake and doesn’t turn around when he hears him walking into the kitchen.

“Morning,” Thorin says, rubbing his eyes.

“We don’t have any food. Hope you like Hobbiton tea,” Bilbo says. Thorin walks up behind him and wraps his arms around Bilbo, burying his face in his hair.

“Come back to bed,” he mumbles. Bilbo shoos him away.

“When the tea is ready. _You_ go back to bed if you’re so tired,” he says, and then Thorin just laughs, the sound of it rumbling in Bilbo’s chest.

“We should go and get food later,” he says, and then lets Bilbo go to head back to their room. He’s never seen Thorin this happy before, or maybe he has and he’s just missed it. Regardless, it fills Bilbo with a strange sort of hope as he gets out the mugs and the kettle starts to whistle. It’s hope similar to that when Thorin broke free from his dragon sickness and charged out into battle, or like when they saw the Lonely Mountain for the first time, on top of the Carrock. It fills Bilbo’s chest like good pipeweed and he takes a moment to look out of the window at the sun just rising above the horizon, soon to light the hills of the Shire in gold and green.

Hope, Bilbo decides, feels good. Hope, he can work with.              

**Author's Note:**

> Okay i have had literally 0 inspiration to write anything recently and this is unedited and sloppy but im posting this anyway because im a terrible person. Hope you liked the fluff.   
> (also i remade my blog, im @oakhenshield now


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